Imposition
by BloodAndDiamonds
Summary: If there was ever a way to blast apart their relationship, it was to break the rare, fragile trust his superior had placed in him. Whilst waiting to be judged for the JTR crimes, Grell Sutcliff is left wondering if, this time, he has gone a step too far.
1. Finding

**A/N**: Hey, here I am with the sequel to **Boundaries** and third in the **Problematic** Series. I posted up a one-shot called **Seclusions** to fill in a few gaps, (and to explain why Alan is alive eight years after catching the Thorns) between this and Boundaries. So, without further ado, here's the opening chapter to Imposition!

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><p>Grell had disappeared.<p>

Completely and _utterly _disappeared.

William wondered if he should start attaching large wooden signs to his employees; ones that couldn't be removed with anything less than the saw that Eric used as his scythe. It wasn't as if they didn't know exactly where the man _was, _per se. There'd been around ten of them at one point in one district of London searching for him, but with so many other Shinigami present it was hard to pinpoint an exact location, and no one could actually _see _the redhead in the sea of blondes, brunettes and less-than-glaring redheads.

Yes, wooden signs with their names on seemed to be the solution; you couldn't hide in a crowd with one of those on. He frowned; they'd probably need something different for Alan, since he probably wasn't strong enough to actually have one stuck to his back all day. Maybe a piece of parchment sewn onto the back of his suit jacket?

Either way, it was more than disconcerting to realise that Grell had not only found a way to hide his many red tresses, but that because of this he'd also managed to likely walk right under the noses of several shinigami and not a single one had noticed it. The man had probably done just that, and William could imagine that he'd do it with a smug little wave as he did so, too.

He'd been verbally lashed for it. William was certain that if the superiors were still in the tradition of physically punishing the division heads, then he'd be several floors below in one of the old dungeons that Eric often liked to lock Ronald in.

Oh but William would _much _prefer to be in one of those dungeons with lash marks on his back rather than have to listen to his immediate superior. He was given a lovely 'I warned you' at least twice a day, and reminded often that he had been told to take Grell's scythe away in fear that he was about to defect.

Everyone knew what the redhead was up to; _everyone _knew that the names that appeared on the death list mere seconds before an actual death were the work of a Shinigami who was purposely picking off people not on the death list so that he could not be caught. It could _be _no one else, as every other Shinigami was accounted for. Only one thing was ever regarded as odd; the most brutal of the random murders still ended up with the victims cinematic record in the library; the remaining murders that seemed oddly random appeared on the list, but the souls could never be accounted for.

Secretly, William suspected that there was another Shinigami involved _somehow_, but he couldn't pinpoint a single Shinigami to be missing with Grell at the time of the Jack the Ripper killings.

With an inward groan that caused the blond sitting before his desk to snap his head up in curiosity, William took one more look at the paperwork before him and felt an uncharacteristic urge to rip it to shreds. Ronald carefully picked it up, eyes warily scanning the page before they widened considerably, his lips parting in surprise.

"Close your mouth, Knox, you look like you're trying to catch flies." William commented after a minute of watching Ronald read through the paper.

"But boss, you can't let this happen!"

"I do not have a choice; I was warned something like this would happen, and I chose to ignore it. I can either be given partial blame for this, or I can represent him at the hearing and have not a single accusation placed on my head." William took the sheet back and signed it, his tidy, eloquent writing filling one line before he handed it to Ronald. The blond signed it reluctantly, his messy scrawl looking terrible next to William's handwriting.

"Is there no way you can change the punishment if he's found guilty?"

"Believe me Knox, I have checked everything. He knows the rules, and as he has clearly killed more than four people whilst knowing them, then he must be prepared to face the consequences of his actions. This is not a hole I will drag him out of." William's voice was sharp, and with any other employee it would have signalled the end of the conversation, but Ronald persisted.

"But boss, they'll kill him!"

"I assure you, he would die much more nicely than he would if the British Public were to get a hold of him. And it is not definite that he would be killed; he could get sent to the Antarctica base." At those words Ronald gave a sigh, and then grumbled under his breath. At William's raised eyebrow, he repeated his words clearly.

"He would probably find that _worse _than death."

"Indeed. However, I will repeat; he must face the consequences of his own actions, and I will not allow myself to be dragged into the hole he has dug." William's voice held its usual cold, sharp tone, which told Ronald everything the man was not saying; he was worried about the redhead, and he had a hundred more reasons to be worried than Ronald.

"What did the higher-ups say, boss?" Ronald asked cautiously, seeing William's eyes dart up to meet his own before he returned to signing paperwork.

"That they were right and I was wrong, and that I have the deaths of four women on my conscience for not taking his scythe away when I was warned to. I was also politely told that I am lucky to still hold my position as head of this division and deputy director of the London Branch. A post, they informed me, which will be given to someone else should Grell be found guilty and given the highest form of punishment." William spoke quickly, eyes darting to his open ledger and ignoring the look of dissatisfaction on Ronald's face.

"Will he be found guilty?" Ronald regretted asking the question at the look on William's face.

"Of _course _he'll be found guilty. You cannot kill four women –at _least_- and not turn up to work without suspicion being laid upon you. And it's not like he hasn't been hiding out at his home; I would _notice _if Grell was in the house, and I haven't been able to sense his presence for weeks." William gave a small frown, feeling around with his senses to reassure himself that he wasn't losing them. He could still sense the vibrant energy of the blond before him, he could still sense the buzzing aura of many Shinigami packed together in a room, and could tell apart the weaker aura of Alan at his desk in the far right hand side of the room outside his office.

Not losing his senses, then.

"I hope for his sake he's been kidnapped by a demon- say, boss, why do you keep looking at your ledger?" Ronald cut himself off with another question, eyes following William's as they snapped towards the old book lying open on the desk. William raised an eyebrow at the blond's curiosity.

"We only know that a Shinigami is doing the killings because the victim does not appear in a ledger a few days before they are supposed to; they show up spontaneously, showing that they were not meant to die when they have. Randomised killing's then, hand-picked and hidden by the Shinigami responsible until minutes from the death. I have an idea about who the next several victims could be. I am waiting for one of their names to appear in my ledger with a time of death less than twenty-four hours from the time it appears." William placed his quill onto the table, placing his palms together and resting his chin on top of his fingertips. Ronald gave a nod of understanding.

"Will you fight at the hearing?"

"Tooth and nail. I will not allow that redhead to cost me my job."

"Will you still keep him in the house if he's acquitted?" At the brief look of confusion on William's face, Ronald could tell that William hadn't thought of that.

"Full of question's today, aren't you Knox?" William asked sharply, adjusting his glasses and looking back to the ledger. No sooner than his eyes had lain upon it did a new name scrawl itself across the parchment with smaller details underneath: 'Mary Kelly.' The implications were clear; Grell had picked another victim, and one of the ones that William suspected would appear on the list sometime soon. Ronald's eyes followed his, eyebrows rising to meet his hairline. William stood up, snatching up the ledger, taking note of the location and quickly sorting out his suit jacket. Ronald rose instinctively, following William out the door of the office as the man's scythe appeared in his hands.

"Are you going to let her die?"

"Too late; if her name is on the list, she needs to die. I will simply observe before bringing him back. By the hair, if I have to." Ronald gave a wide grin at the constantly-there serious look on William's face.

"Remember to bring him back in one piece, boss!"

The older man didn't even grace him with a response to that, making Ronald wonder if he should be worried, and if he should perhaps place a medical kit on William's desk for when they came back. He took the kit from Eric's desk as William left for London, relaying the information to Eric before quickly darting into his boss' office.

He felt sorry for Grell, in a way; the redhead really had _no idea_ just how angry William was, or what was about to hit him. _Literally_.


	2. Fear

**A/N**: Hey, here's the next chapter: it skips from Eric & Alan to William taking Grell back to the office, as we all know what happens in between! Sorry this is late, too; I've avoided all technology other than my ps3 lately, for clear reasons. D:

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><p>Alan Humphries had, over the last few years, felt more than his fair share of pain. Most of it, however, had nothing against the back of Eric's serrated blade being slammed into his stomach to stop him running forward any further. The wind was knocked from him and, stumbling from the pain, Alan's footing on the roof they were running across dislodged. He fell to his knees, tearing open the trouser knee of his left leg and almost fell sideways off the side of the roof had Eric not grabbed his arm at the last possible second. His scythe clattered down the rooftop and to the floor below as Alan wheezed in pain, feeling his chest ache with the pain of laboured breaths. He cast a scowl at a guilty Eric.<p>

"What are you _doing_?" Alan ground out, closing his eyes tightly in pain as Eric guided his head to his chest in an apology.

"You weren't supposed to _fall_. Are you okay?" Eric gripped both his shoulders, slowly dragging Alan back as he did so.

"I'm fine, but why did you _do _that?" Alan asked, pulling himself out of Eric's grip and checking the rip in his trouser leg. Eric elbowed him to get him to look up again, and motioned across to the roof of the house opposite the one they were standing on. Standing there, with his 'unimpressed' look, as Eric called it, was William Spears.

"I don't think he's noticed us here."

"Why's he looking rather…dark?" Alan asked, adjusting his glasses and peering across the rooftop towards his superior. He was leaning against a chimney, ledger open in one hand with his legs crossed at the ankles. His other hand held his scythe, and his superior's gaze was directed towards the alley between them.

"He looks dark because he's directing all the light away from him. You don't notice it, but it happens when we want to hide from human eyes. We can still see each other, though. But why is he still here? Ronald told me an hour ago that he'd left to go get Grell; it shouldn't take this long." Eric kept a hand on Alan's upper arm and dragged him to hide behind a chimney. No doubt, if Grell was in the area, William would write of their aura as that of Grell's, and ignore them.

"What's that sound?" Alan asked carefully, attempting to get a good look into the alley.

"I don't hear anything?" Eric muttered quietly, finally noticed movement in the alley; quick, blurred movement that was equipped with dark tendrils of wispy cloud.

"It sounds like a dying _cat_, eerily similar to Gr- he's down there?" Alan queried, hearing the sounds of someone screaming in pain dying down. Eric gave him a nod, watching as a small smirk seemed to grace his superior's lips.

Man, he was _annoyed_.

"…With the help of your little toy." The words carried up to Eric and Alan on the rooftop, and they barely heard the squeal of 'No!' before the familiar sounds of Grell's chainsaw revving up filled the air. Alan gave Eric a look of alarm.

"He's going to be killed. And William isn't doing anything!" Alan's voice was full of worry, but Eric merely shook his head and motioned towards their superior. Alan turned to look at William, a look of surprise flittering across his face at the sight of William standing on the edge of the rooftop. He looked up towards them, eyes meeting their own, and Eric suddenly felt rather like a child caught sneaking biscuits from a jar.

William shook his head at them to warn them to keep quiet, before his scythe was aimed towards the demon. Alan raised an eyebrow as the blade was extended all the way to the floor, just in time to stop the blade. The high-pitched sound the blade of the chainsaw made against the metal of William's scythe was enough to make Alan clap his hands to his ears. Eric gritted his teeth and gently pried Alan's hands from his ears.

"We'd best leave. God only knows what he'll do to Grell now he's caught him, and I'm certain we don't want to be signing witness papers." Alan gave a nod at Eric's words, flinching as the chainsaw screeched to a halt, and promptly transported out of the area with Eric.

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><p>"Ow, ow, ow, <em>ow!<em>" Grell all but spat the words out as William dragged him through the corridors of the London headquarters. He'd released the redhead's hair in favour of the fabric at the scruff of his neck, and he'd made sure that he'd managed to scrape at the skin as he'd grabbed it. Grell was attempting to resist, but his wounds and fatigue from fighting Sebastian made him too weak to be able to actively get away from William. Under any other circumstances he'd be able to throw the man to the floor and flee, but he genuinely didn't have the will to do so.

"Quiet." The word was spoken harshly, bitterly, and the tone alone sent a rush of fear coursing through him. William had never, _ever _used that tone with him before, no matter what he did; it was a tone reserved for the absolute worst, and Grell had only ever heard it on two occasions. The first was eight years previously, when he'd kicked the Shinigami out who'd allowed the demon into the archives, and the second was two years ago when he had been forced to defend one of the Shinigami in his department. The defending part hadn't made him use that tone, oh no, it was the revelation that the Shinigami on trial was actually _guilty _of killing a human girl not on the death list, who had had a chance to change the course of the future.

No one knew what had happened to that particular Shinigami.

Right now, Grell could honestly say that he feared for his life. William looked so calm and stoic, his eyes hard and cold, and Grell knew that it meant William had been pushed past his limits. Calm meant dangerous when it came to his dark haired superior. He was dragged down another hallway into a familiar open space, and Grell half-wondered if William was going to simply sit him at his desk and make him work. But he was dragged far past his desk. The Shinigami who had came in for the early-morning shift watched in alarm and confusion as the missing shinigami was dragged past their desks towards the large, glass-walled room of their superior's office. The blinds were already closed; not a good sign at _all_.

Grell was spun on the spot, the sight of curious workers spinning into the bright room of the office, before the temporary imbalance was used to the advantage of William. He was thrown roughly to the floor without warning, hitting it without being able to hold his hands out to soften the fall. William took one look at him before leaving the office, shutting the door with a gentle click. A storm was raging inside him, Grell knew. The easiest way to avoid it, he thought, was to transport out of the office. He tried it desperately, and for a moment wondered if his abilities had been damaged when he was still in the office a moment later.

And _then _he remembered that William's office was warded. No one could transport in or out of the office. It was to prevent employees turning up out of the blue in the office, and to stop terrified Shinigami from fleeing from William's unimpressed gaze. Grell scowled; he wasn't even going to _try _the door; it would be locked, no doubt. William wasn't _stupid._ He was just very, very angry. Grell rubbed at his chin, hissing in pain; there was no wound on his chin from Sebastian, so it was likely a carpet burn from William's office.

"_Bastard_." Grell huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and settling himself into the chair opposite William's desk. The man returned a few minutes later, a medical syringe with a needle in his hand. Grell all but _leapt _out of the seat, running around to the side of the desk with all thoughts to his wounds gone. He ignored the pain in favour of staring at the needle in William's hand.

"No, no, no! Keep that away from me!" Grell shrieked, suddenly hating the fact that the room had been soundproofed; no one outside would hear him scream if William injected some form of poison into him. He could almost _feel _William refraining from rolling his eyes.

"Be quiet. Get in that chair and give me your upper arm." The terror-tone was back, and Grell reluctantly sat back down in the chair. At least it would likely be painless, right? William wasn't sadistic enough to directly inject something like ink into his blood, right?

"I'm sorry, just please don't kill me before my face heals!" At those words, William gave him a look that directly translated into 'It's too early for this.'

"It's morphine, you incompetent fool. Specially altered for Shinigami; it will stop your pain, but it will not change your behaviour." William answered curtly, all but yanking the coat from Grell's arm. With the precision of one who was extremely familiar with Grell's body, he pushed the tip of the needle through his shirt fabric and hit the vein. Grell squirmed in pain as the fluid was pushed into the veins around his tense muscles, and nearly balked when it was pulled out with a slice of pain.

"What's going to happen to me?"

"Depends on your sentence." William's tone was stiff, as though he were sick to even be in the presence of Grell.

"And the nicest that could happen?" Grell asked quietly, wincing as William pulled open his drawer with force and pulled out the medical kit that Ronald had left there for him.

"You could die." Grell paled at those words.

"And the _worst_?" The redhead asked carefully, meekly. William shot him a calm look, but with a dark shimmer behind his eyes.

"You could be let off, and I would be stuck with you in my department."

_Ouch_. Grell sunk into his chair; he couldn't deny that the comment had stung. He felt as though he'd been slapped across the face by the man, which probably would have been better.

"Who's representing me, if I get a hearing?" William opened the medical kit as Grell spoke, pulling out a disinfectant solution before giving Grell one of the darkest looks that he'd ever seen cross his face.

"Me."

And somehow, even though his superior seemed to be rather calm, that didn't make Grell feel much better.


	3. Evidence

**A/N**: Hey, here's the next chapter! I hope you all enjoy!

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><p>There had been a lull in conversation. Understandable, of course, but annoying to Grell nonetheless. It was oddly hurtful, too. They'd had silences, long lapses in conversation where they'd simply get on with their own things in the same room of the house, but there'd never been any hint of anything <em>else <em>during them. Now, Grell felt uneasy; William seemed to be a barrel of gunpowder with a single trail leading from him, and the spark was anything that Grell would say. The tension could be cut with a knife, although Grell rather suspected that the knife would likely _snap_.

He was _scared_. William was absolutely livid, and Grell still wasn't entirely certain on what had happened to the Shinigami who'd last been the object of this much rage from his superior. William was, at the moment, cleaning any of the larger wounds on Grell's body from Sebastian. When the darker haired man had realised that Grell did not want any unnecessary pain on his face, he'd proceeded to go ahead and use an alcohol based disinfectant to clean the wounds and cuts.

_Sadistic bastard_, Grell thought quietly. He wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up in his bed –_their _bed- and pretend none of it had ever happened. Of course, with William's mood, he doubted there'd be any curling up in a bed. William would likely make him sleep in the basement of the old house. In the small, wine-cellar section of the basement that wasn't even wide enough for a bed and a chest of drawers.

"Why are you so angry?" At the question, there was an unneeded pressure on the largest of the wounds on his back. After a drawn out silence, William answered.

"You have killed three innocent women, and then proceeded to mutilate a fourth and then kill a fifth, none of which were on the death list. You conspired with a human murderer, neglected your Shinigami duties for nearly three months, and to put the cherry on top of your pitifully small life, you made me look a _fool _in front of every single one of my superiors." No. _Angry _was putting it nicely.

"A grand total of what, six or seven men?" Grell scoffed, immediately regretting it when William fell eerily silent. Grell couldn't even hear him _breathing_. He didn't need to breathe, but it was a human habit that his superior and lover had never managed to completely be rid of. It had often helped lull him to sleep most nights.

"I do not think you are in a position to be sarcastic, Sutcliff."

"Are you even on my side?" Grell asked, his voice strained as William tightly wrapped a bandage around his upper arm.

"No." The words were sharp, and it stung more than any of his wounds to know that William was not on his side.

"Yet you're representing me?"

"Correct." William was getting impatient now as he tried to clean another wound before layering bandages over it. Grell frowned.

"That's not going to work. You have to believe in me to help me."

"I do hope I mentioned that I'm not representing you willingly." William answered quickly, all but hurling the words at Grell. The redhead narrowed his eyes.

"Why not?"

"I would assign someone else to represent you, but considering I spent three months trying to convince the director that you _weren't _killing innocent women only to have it revealed that you _were_, the sufficient punishment was that I use those 'convincing skills' to stop them from killing you." Grell leaned back in his seat at William's words, huffing when the man yanked him forward again so he could access another wound.

"But why won't you _side _with _me_? Why don't you _care_?" Grell whined. William snapped.

"This is _your _sinking ship, Grell, and I refuse to go down with it. You tear a hole in the hull, then you have to fix it." William was hardly one for metaphors, but it was the kindest way he would be able to put the words across without possibly beating the redhead any further. Grell scowled at him.

"Some lover you are." He muttered darkly. He then became increasingly agitated as William didn't respond. "Am I sleeping on the settee tonight?" At the question, William gave him a look that plainly said 'you're cannot be serious.'

"Why would you sleep on the settee?"

"Because you're angry with me!" Grell retorted quickly, confused.

"That does not mean you cannot sleep in your own bed." With the suppressed anger in those words, along with the underlying layer of something Grell couldn't identify, he got the impression that they were not talking about the same bed.

"…What did they make you do?"

"They never made me _do _anything." A lie, but Grell didn't notice it due to William hiding it extremely well. He continued. "I arranged for your lodgings to be changed. You will find that you now live closer to Eric and Alan than you did previously." Grell simply stared at him as he spoke, and had to remember to pick his jaw up from the floor.

"You kicked me out!" The accusation was loud, prompting William to narrow his eyes.

"Incorrect. You left me." There wasn't a trace of emotion in the words, and William's eyes had hardened. Grell opened his mouth to protest, and then paused. He felt like he'd been kicked in the chest.

Because he _had _done that, hadn't he?

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><p>If William had to admit it to himself, then he would; he was feeling horribly ill. He had the evidence against Grell before him, scattered on his desk with numerous notes pinned to them. Half of the notes were penned by his immediate superior, the director, and the rest were penned by him.<p>

Only, his own notes were much, much smaller than the directors.

He was grateful, now more than ever, that he could ignore his emotions at will so successfully. He didn't dare to think what he would be like if he couldn't. He would probably look terrible, and would likely be unable to actually function with the torrent of emotions flaring beneath his cool exterior. He ignored the anger, the annoyance, the disgust at himself and at Grell, and instead attempted to focus on sorting out the defence for his worker.

Some of the evidence was making him sick to the stomach. He was pulled from these thoughts as the familiar sound of oxford shoes squeaking on the floor outside alerted him to an oncoming blond. Sure enough, not seconds later, there was a quick knock on the door before Ronald entered. He had a half-eaten red apple in his hand, and was chewing loudly as he closed the door to the din outside.

"Hey, boss!" Ronald at least had the courtesy to hold a hand over his mouth as he spoke, but swallowed quickly and gave William his trademark smile.

"Morning, Ronald. Your shift should be finished by now." William noted, looking back to the photo in front of him before turning away. _Honestly_, he was a Shinigami; he'd seen much worse than this! Why was such a simple photo sickening him?

"Yeah, but I just wanted to come in a see you. Check how you're holding up."

"I am your superior, Ronald." William reminded him. "I am not made from glass." Ronald shrugged at his words, and sat in the chair opposite William's desk.

"Whatever you say, boss! Say, what you looking at?"

"What _are _you looking at." William corrected the blond, before he pushed the photo towards Ronald. The blond picked it up carefully, and William watched as his features darkened into something resembling confusion and fear.

"Uh… boss? What _is _this? I'm hoping it's a scene from a west-end musical. A gruesome one. Macbeth?"

"That, Knox, is a copy of the police photo of the last Jack the Ripper victim. Sutcliff and the human's final victim, it would seem." William answered, scrawling another note across a piece of parchment as Ronald gingerly put the photo back on the desk.

"Is Grell going to die?" The question was asked quietly, and William had to double-check that the shinigami had actually spoken. He was quiet for a moment, before he realised that, if he lied to Ronald, it would be like kicking a hyperactive puppy.

"Not if I can help it. I may not like what has happened, but I am not losing one of my workers. We're understaffed as it is." William placed all the photos into a pile, pinning another note to them and waiting for Ronald to answer. The blond seemed to sink into his chair.

"Alan was worrying about it this morning. He… he kept saying that being on the verge of losing one worker was bad enough, that killing a second would be disastrous for this department." Ronald forced a smile onto his face, and a tense silence seemed to descend on them. William had completely forgotten about Alan. Too many times, lately, the brunette had collapsed and woken up in the Shinigami infirmary in _agony_.

Only William and Eric remembered the pleas for the pain to stop that Alan all but screamed into the infirmary. Alan himself claimed to not remember much between collapsing and waking up pain-free, but there were times that William caught him off guard and became overcome with the feeling that perhaps Alan was always fully aware of it. There were some things worse than death, and Alan's suffering seemed to be one of those things. Once the thorns finally claimed Alan, William was certain that both Eric and Ronald would be unable to function for at least a week.

"Where is Grell, boss?" Ronald changed the subject in order to make the silence disappear. He didn't like to think of the idea of Alan dying. He'd accepted that it was going to happen some day, but that didn't mean he had to _like _the idea.

"Under house arrest. A member from security is outside his home to prevent him leaving by the door, a ward has been placed around it to prevent him from transporting out, and his chainsaw is confined to that shelf over there." William nodded in the direction of a bookcase in the corner of his office. Ronald stepped over to it after leaving his chair, pulling it off the shelf and nearly dropping it once it was in his hands.

"Whoa, how does Grell _lift _this thing?" Ronald exclaimed in surprise, attempting to swing it and stumbling as he did so.

"No matter how feminine and delicate he would like to be perceived as, you will find that Grell is much stronger than you think." William answered automatically, and repressed a smirk as Ronald struggled to put it back on the shelf. It didn't help that the shelf in question was above the blond's head.

"I'd have never guessed, boss." Ronald stepped back once it was placed back on the shelf, and dusted his hands. "I bet he's heartbroken that you've taken it away from him." William gave a nod, and started to pack away everything on his desk. He'd need to go home and look through everything there; he couldn't concentrate here. The buzzing aura's of the other Shinigami in the next room was too distracting for him. He could sense their worry, their annoyance, and their confusion concerning Grell Sutcliff, and he didn't need those conflicting auras impacting his thoughts.

"Indeed." William answered the blond a few minutes later, holding the files under his arm and attempting to usher the man out of his office so he could lock the door behind him. Ronald looked at him in confusion, however William's mind was already racing through different thoughts.

He needed to view a record.


	4. Fire

**A/N**: Hey! Here's the next chapter; sorry it's a wee bit late: remember those exams I was taking during Boundaries? I got my results back last week, and the entire week before it I could barely write; the last chapter had already been written, so I had hastily posted it. Enjoy this chapter! Also, before you read and get confused; the guard has no problem with a certain person. He's just doing his job, and the person he's guarding is just being paranoid!

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><p>"You do not get a choice in the matter!"<p>

Alan froze.

Really, it wasn't as though he was trespassing, or _eavesdropping_. He had been sent for and, at finding the Director occupied with another one of the senior members of the London Branch, had been instructed to sit in the waiting area outside the mans office by the receptionist. It wasn't exactly _his _fault that the conversation on the other side of the door had turned into a heated argument, nor was it his fault he could hear it. Surely the receptionist was far more likely to gossip than he ever was. He wasn't breaking any rules, simply doing as he was told.

Alan had been unable to hear the voice of the other man clearly, but he knew enough to realise that the argument was escalating. It was odd, because he was absolutely certain that the only people who could escape an argument with the Director with their hides intact, were the ones who wouldn't argue with him if their lives depended on it. Half of him was itching to know who it was, whereas his other half was begging him to flee so he couldn't be dragged into it. The receptionist looked extremely amused at how uncomfortable he was.

"It is a biased hearing!"

For the second time in two minutes, Alan froze once more. There was absolutely _no _mistaking the icy, sharp tone in the mans voice. Coupled with the fact that there was, really, only one man in authority who would care about any current 'hearing' at the moment, helped Alan to realise it was _his _immediate superior arguing with the Director.

"You forget, Mr. Spears, that whilst it may be slightly biased against him, _you _are also in a biased position _for _him!" Alan flinched as he heard it through the door. He could imagine that one of two looks would be passing his boss' face right now; a very, very dark one, or one that made him look like he'd just been struck across the face.

"I assure you I am not biased in any way; I simply do not find it _fair _that the three people who are part of the final decision _do not particularly like him_." Alan suppressed a shiver of fear that threatened to crawl down his spine; with that tone of voice, William clearly had his 'Dark Look' on. Alan wouldn't be surprised if the Director's office was now covered in sheets of ice.

"You forget both your place _and _your skills! I am not blind, Spears; you can sway many people very quickly."

"Eddowes was the-"

"Silence!" Alan gave another flinch; William never responded well to being told what to do. He'd obey, but reluctantly. He didn't _seem _it, but he was the type to carry out orders in way that would irritate and annoy his superiors the most without him actually _doing _anything wrong. Alan genuinely wondered how he did it at times. "I will remove the three biased Shinigami on one condition; that _you _remove yourself from the defending side at the hearing. In fact, you won't be there at all."

"No, absolutely not! His own _defence _will tear him to shreds." Alan was torn between sticking his ear to the door and running like the wind. He could imagine Eric sitting across from him, laughing his head off at the argument on the other side of the door and making some smart comment to stop Alan from feeling uncomfortable. Sadly, however, Eric was at home, and so Alan was left on his own with only the receptionist for company as his two superiors argued.

"Then _deal _with the three deciders." The Director had several angry, annoyed tones in his voice, along with one that conveyed the total end of the conversation. Alan's discomfort rose as loud footsteps strode towards the wooden door. It was opened quickly and sharply, and William appeared through it. He closed it loud enough to make a bang, but quietly enough that he couldn't be reprimanded for it. His eyes were a blazing fire, with anger roaring through the green and yellow irises. They were narrowed, and his eyebrows were lowered in annoyance. The mere sight of his superior looking so _terrifyingly _livid made Alan want to curl up into a ball to hide from it all. William's eyes widened marginally in surprise –and perhaps embarrassment- as his gaze flickered to Alan. The inferno that Alan saw reflected in normally _icy _eyes was enough that he found he couldn't tear his eyes away from his superior's gaze.

All of that had happened in the single second that William had left the room, and the fire behind his eyes was diminished in a flash. His face slipped back into its indifferent mask, and his eyes returned to their usual icy stare. A single delicate eyebrow was raised at him, and Alan gave him one of the charming smiles that Ronald usually cast towards their superior.

"Good morning, sir." Alan's voice was firm with a seemingly oblivious tone to it. If anyone had caught the back end of the argument and spotted Alan sitting outside, they might have assumed that he'd been sitting there with plugs in his ears, for all his tone implied. William gave him a stiff nod and left the office as gracefully as he always did.

Alan allowed himself to shiver. He wasn't entirely certain as to _why_, but something about that argument unnerved him. Perhaps it was the implications that Grell was in much more trouble than he had thought? Perhaps because he'd never witnessed an argument of that scale? Or perhaps because he now knew that, no matter what William seemed to say, part of him still cared enough for Grell to try and fight tooth and nail for him? Of one thing, though, Alan was absolutely certain.

That was the most emotion he'd ever, _ever _seen his superior convey, and that was _not _a good thing.

* * *

><p>Grell sighed.<p>

He felt, for the first time in a _very _long time, utterly miserable. He wasn't sure if it was accidental, or if William had done it on purpose, but he'd been sent to the small terraced house that they had been forced to share before William had gone to the country house and dragged Grell with him.

Well, he knew there'd be consequences. Despite the three months that had passed in his absence, there hadn't actually _been _a house available for him. He'd spent the last two weeks in the visitor's rooms at the London Branch; no one had wanted to open up their home for him, as none of them knew him anyway. No doubt the initial rumours of him being Jack the Ripper that had spread during his absence had caused this. Ronald had, apparently, been more than willing to let Grell share his home. The poor kid was lonely since his house-mate had died over a decade earlier, but William had refused vehemently to let Grell near the boy's home.

Not that Ronald was a _boy_, but Grell was simply viewed by most of the superiors as a danger, and William did _not _need to piss them off any more than he had done so already.

He was half suspecting that the guard sent to watch over him had been hired just to appease those who had an influence on his fate. The man (at least he _thought _it was a man) was roughly over six feet tall and clearly built for one purpose: to rip unsuspecting Shinigami's heads off. Grell wasn't sure if it was possible to actually detach a Shinigami's head from its neck, but one look at the muscles practically bursting through the man's blazer made Grell completely certain that he wasn't going to be the first test. The man looked like he wanted to eat him!

Grell was sincerely hoping that the guard was very soft-hearted. He wouldn't make it out alive, otherwise.

He absentmindedly wondered how William was doing in trying to make a decent defence for him. William was second-highest in rank in the London Division, but he'd need the favour of at least two of the department heads who were below him for him to win. And even if he _did _win, the punishment would still be decided by the four department heads regardless of what side they chose. In all technicality, they could find Grell not guilty and _still _send him to Antarctica if they felt particularly angry.

He gave a heavy sigh, and without warning pulled a box of matches from his coat pocket. The guard moved, his hand moving to his _deadly _looking dagger-shaped scythe on his hip. Grell heard the movement and frowned.

"Now, now, cupcake, don't be so paranoid. I'm going to light a candle, see?" With exaggerated movements and a condescending tone of voice, Grell moved to light a candle on the far side of the room. His eyes never left the guard, and anyone witnessing it would have assumed that Grell was teaching an extremely slow five year old. He repeated the movement as he went to the fireplace, knowing by memory that that was the last place William had put the candelabra before they'd moved out.

Nostalgia hit him hard as he lit the candle, the effects of his actions only now dawning on him. He was on his own this time around. It was simply too severe for William to cover up, hide, protect and erase the actions of Grell. Grell had _left _him. He didn't want to think on how that must have felt for William; it had taken him years to get William to trust him, to be the slightest bit more open and expressive in his company. The way the man acted now, it was as though those years had never existed. (And really, if Grell were in his place, he'd probably want to forget it all too.)

He couldn't go home to the house in the country, like he used to after so many arguments, and slyly crawl into the bed as a way of asking forgiveness. William simply would not cave, and he'd find himself more likely to be skewered than ignored as he used to be. He couldn't hide underneath sheets, content with the knowledge that whilst an angry William was lying next to him and pointedly ignoring him, the make-up the next morning would be thrilling enough to make even the _worst _of the women in General Affairs blush down to their toes. He wanted to go _home_, and a sad pang echoed through him as he remembered that the house in the country just wasn't his anymore.

He wondered, with a smidge of annoyance, if the gorgeous demon and the beautiful Madam had been worth it. He couldn't find an answer; yes, the Madam had been a disappointment in the end, but he couldn't deny that he'd felt _something _for her.

Grell frowned, tugging at pieces of his hair and checking them for dead ends as the guard stood ramrod straight. The redhead wondered if perhaps William had shoved poles up each and everyone one of the guard; he'd never seen a single one even slightly hunched over. With a dramatic sigh, Grell crossed the room once more, stopping outside the door that led to his old bedroom. The guard followed, and Grell turned around with a hand on his hip.

"And just where do you think _you're _going, Mister?"

"I was informed that you may try to escape at any given moment. I am not to let you out of my sight."

"Oh for the love of… the window in this room has been boarded off! I think you'd hear me if I tried to rip the planks of wood off! Now get away from this door, and if you _dare _try to enter a Lady's r-"

"Silence." The word was spoken harshly, gruffly, but it had the desired effect. Grell's jaw closed with a 'snap.' The guard did step backwards, however. "I will be outside this door for the remainder of this evening." Grell gave the guard a scathing look, wishing beyond all belief that he could just claw his eyes out. He pointedly ripped the key from its hook next to the door, and once inside loudly locked the door. He slammed the security bolt across too, for good measure.

And also because he really _was _certain that the guard was going to seriously injure him if the opportunity arose.


	5. Hearing

**A/N**: Hey, here's the next chapter guys! The bit at the end, with the whole talk of 'exile', is simply being explored because the next Kuro story I post will be based on the whole 'Not in the Shinigami world, no longer a Shinigami' thing!

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><p>There were times, William thought privately to himself, that the Shinigami justice system was absolutely, <em>utterly <em>useless. This was such a time. The hearing had gone on for nearly three hours, and it was frustrating William to no end. Grell would either live or die, and all evidence pertaining to the final decision had already been reviewed. There was absolutely no point _whatsoever _to have to read it out and attempt to argue diminished responsibility when the decision had technically already been made long before the hearing actually convened. Grell was simply _sitting _there, next to William, in a chair and was staring directly at the wall and nothing else. If the Shinigami had the ability to freeze a person in one position for an extended period of time, William would have suspected that the Director had done just that.

"It is already in his medical file that he is prone to mood swings and excessive behaviour. Combined with the cumulative forty-eight hours of shifts he worked, you cannot have expected him to resist the temptation." William felt as though he were spitting out venom; he knew his words didn't really have that much of a point, and he absolutely _hated _the fact that he had to use words such as 'resist.'

"I object to those words-"

"You can't _object_, you're a-"

"Silence!" The Director's words echoed through the small room, and their intensity made even Grell look over at him. William kept his mouth shut, and his face retained its unemotional expression. "Brown, Spears has a point."

"Eddowes was his descendant; he's bias-"

"That does not give you free reign, Spears." The words were sharp, and made William feel like nothing more than an insolent child. It was annoying, considering that he actually _was _the youngest of the six senior Shinigami in the room. Only the Director, however, held a higher rank than he. Under normal circumstances, the four remaining Department Heads were all under his command.

But not today.

"I understand, sir. Let me continue. It has been documented –by myself- that Grell Sutcliff is prone to violent, aggressive flashbacks of his life as a human, and has frequently 'lived out' these flashbacks several times."

It was a good thing, William noted, that no one was watching Grell at that time. There was an incredulous look to pass across his face, before it contorted into one of suppressed fury. The Director, sitting at the head of the table, tapped his quill to his chin thoughtfully.

"A flashback that he lives out over the course of four months? Surely you realise how dubious that sounds?" At the question, William ground his back teeth together as he nodded. If outright _lying _wasn't getting him anywhere, he wasn't sure _what _he was going to do.

"If you had _observed_," William started slowly, "the record that I had sent to each of you, you will find that Grell Sutcliff was not actually _present _for two of the actual murders. It was, in fact, the butler of one of the murderers, egged on by Sutcliff." And, of course, _William _knew that the butler was actually Grell, but everyone else in the room didn't. If they had initially recognised the butler as Grell, the string of murders likely wouldn't have happened so viciously or so randomly. Unless the Department Heads had actually _entered _the memory, they shouldn't have been able to tell that the brown-haired butler was actually their redheaded reaper. Thomas Brown stood up again.

"Either way, he has broken the rules regarding conduct for a member of theLondonbranch and a Shinigami!" William refrained from twitching. He kept his calm, but only barely.

"This has gone far beyond the ideas of rules. You didn't need a _hearing _to deduce that Sutcliff has broken the rules. This is about loyalties, and we both know that it is no secret that half of this branch would have been killed if not for the actions of Sutcliff eight years ago."

"Oh? I was under the impression that it was you who had solved that little problem. Should your reward have been given to Sutcliff instead?" At those words, William bit back a sharp response, and simply replied very, very calmly.

"I had solved the problem; however I could not have finished what started in that vault if not for Sutcliff. That is not exactly a secret in this building, Brown." An unidentified look passed through Thomas Brown's eyes, and his eyes narrowed at Grell's very smug smirk.

"And what does the accused have to say on this?" It was one of the other Department Heads who asked this; both he and his other two fellow, female Shinigami had kept silent throughout the hearing. Grell shook his head as William sighed inwardly.

"He's under orders from the Director to stay silent during the hearing. He can't speak." This seemed to satisfy the man, and he gave a brief nod before motioning for William to continue. The Director cut in before William could reply.

"Spears, is this everything you have to say?" And, as though he had been stabbed with a needle, William seemed to deflate. It was odd, Grell thought curiously, because William didn't actually change his posture or stance.

"No, sir, at the present moment I find I am lacking with sufficient evidence to carry this hearing on further." The Director gave a sharp nod, and looked to the four other Department Heads.

"Very well. We will give these men and women a chance to deliberate. Take Grell back to his isolated room, and we will reconvene in two hours."

At the look on William's face, Grell didn't know if he should laugh or cry.

* * *

><p>"So…"<p>

"Ronald, you are wasting my time. Speak, or _leave_." William's tone was sharp, and Ronald briefly flinched as his eyes flickered from Grell to William. They both knew that William wasn't actually _doing _anything other than sitting at his desk and sifting through notes that he'd read over countless times, but none of them had the nerve to point that out.

"Do you know what's going to happen?"

"No, Ronald, I do not. I can only guess." William let out a deep breath –Ronald couldn't exactly call it a _sigh_- and started to scrunch up the sheets of parchment and throw them towards the parchment bin. If William was getting heavily frustrated, the only sign he gave was in the force that he threw the balls of parchment.

"Well, what do you _think _could happen?" Ronald slumped himself down into the chair opposite William and next to Grell. William looked up at the two of them with a single eyebrow raised.

"He'll be found guilty, no doubt about that. There are three possible punishments; death, exile, or a varying range of demoting and confining to the offices." Grell seemed to freeze in his seat at the mention of 'exile' and it prompted Ronald to question William further.

"What happens when a Shinigami is exiled?" Both Ronald and Grell felt the hairs on the backs of their necks stand up at the cruel smirk that seemed to grace William's lips for half a second.

"They're sent to Antarctica. Which, as you know, is far beyond the reaches of the Shinigami realm _and _its energy. There is a reason that Shinigami who sign up forAntarctica do so with a heavy heart." Grell, if possible, seemed to stiffen further, and Ronald's curiosity was peaked.

"What happens there?"

"Human." Grell croaked out; his voice was thick, and the words were choked with emotion as Grell simply stared straight ahead. Ronald's stomach filled with dread.

"Human?" At his question, William gave a nod before he elaborated.

"A Shinigami's body is very, very different to a humans; this is mostly because of the realm we both live and work in. No matter how long we spend in the presence of humans, if a Shinigami can actively enter the Shinigami realm from, say, the middle of London, then nothing can harm us. We are, essentially, immortal. But our realm does not extend to Antarctica."

"Which means?" Ronald immediately regretted the question when Grell slumped into his chair with the resignation of a dead man walking. He refused to mention, however, to the man that he'd been a dead man walking for over a century.

"No energy. You can't enter Antarcticafrom here. You have to get there via Iceland, or Greenland, or wherever you can teleport to that's relatively close to the area. If you live in Antarctica, or are exiled there, your body _will _change. Time will change from your best friend to your worst enemy."

And suddenly, Grell's fear was understandable. Ronald could handle the idea of being exiled; it would be lonely, and long, but he could handle it. But to be exiled with the knowledge that you had only a limited number of months left before you _died_ was something that was absolutely terrifying to the blond man. Time flew by for the Shinigami; their life would be over in a blink of an eye if they were sent away.

Before Ronald could reply, there was a loud, heavy knock at the door to William's office. Grell spun around in his seat, as did Ronald, and William stiffened in his seat.

"Enter." A few seconds after the order, the black door was pushed open and the Director's Secretary herself walked in.

"Sir, they've made their decisions. You've to take Grell Sutcliff down to them at once."

As Ronald watched the two of them leave after the petite brunette, he couldn't tell which of them was more unnerved than the other.


	6. Decision

**A/N**: Hey, here's the next chapter! I'm going away for a week on Saturday to see my Grandfather, so this is the latest chapter until about the 4th/5th of October! You all know what'll be coming next after this chapter; it's only for a week, though!

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><p>They were walking slowly down the corridors, both of them filled with a small amount of dread as they neared the meeting room. Grell was absolutely <em>terrified<em> that he'd be killed, and William was more than worried that he was going to lose one of his better workers. Sure, after the latest incident, Grell couldn't _exactly _be counted as a good worker, but before that he had been admittedly one of the best. His anger had been blinding William, yes, he could admit to that. After all, it did _not _take five months to get over relationship that had started over a century beforehand. William was _well _aware of this, but he was able to successfully cut off any and all emotions pertaining to the shaking redhead walking a step behind him.

"Will?" _Honestly_, think of the _devil_. William inclined his head as they walked to motion for the redhead to continue. "What… What will happen if they sentence me to death?"

The pause that hung between them made Grell uneasy. He felt, he supposed, somewhat better at the fact that William hadn't exactly spun on his heel, sneered and hissed a 'then you _die_.'

"You do not know what could happen. They could release you of all charges."

"And if they send me to Antarctica?" Another silence followed Grell's question, and William glanced down at his clipboard that was full of cut up pieces of parchment. He let loose a heavy breath –he wasn't one for _sighing_- and decided promptly that honesty was probably the better course of action.

"I find myself agreeing to the idea that I would not allow them to send you there." It was shockingly honest, and prompted Grell's eyes to widen and speed up his pace so he could have a look at his superior's face. Briefly, for merely a split second, there was a raw look of steely determination that promptly disappeared before Grell's eyes could really focus on his face. Grell frowned; honest or no, William sounded as though he were a human version of the typewriters. He was using any and all words to skirt around actually saying 'I won't let them take you.'

Grell scoffed at the man. He felt, for some inane reason, that he needed to goad his superior.

"You agree, do you? I know you, William; you wouldn't disobey a direct order even if your life depended on it." Grell stepped closer as he spoke, struggling to keep up with William as he all but _marched _down the corridors towards the hearing room. With the amount of time it was taking, Grell wondered if William was taking them on the longer route to delay it as much as possible.

"Back away, Sutcliff. Do not presume to know what I would and would not do."

"You could have let me die in the fight with Sebas- the demon, but you didn't. You _wanted _to let me die, but you didn't. Was that because letting me die would have been against the rules?" Grell was walking sideways now, watching as William's face remained as expressionless as stone. His eyes however, Grell noted, were _burning_. William titled his head to an angle where the light reflected off his glasses and quickly hid his orbs from Grell's view.

"If I had let you die, you would not have been able to answer for your blatant disobedience." William's voice was getting louder, with a noticeable tinge of annoyance ringing through it. Grell held back a smirk.

"So you would have let me die?"

"Sutcliff, I will warn you only once; that is a path you do _not _wish to go down." There was another pause; William was starting to snap, and he was unfortunate enough to be in such a discussion with the one person who knew the exact buttons he needed to press to break William's resolve. Grell needed to _end _this charade of indifference towards each other, and he needed to do it before the other Shinigami gave their verdict for his punishment.

"You would have let me die! You _never _cared about me, you simply _put up _with me. I'm not your possession, William!" As he spoke, Grell noticed that William's knuckles were whitening as he gripped the clipboard tight enough to make it crack slightly. They turned onto a corridor with several doors on each side.

"Yes, Sutcliff, I _put up with you_. You are annoying, whiny, disrespectful, lazy, unreliable and downright _promiscu_-"

Grell slapped him before he could so much as _finish _the final word.

The corridor was deadly silent save for William's somewhat-heavy breathing and Grell's quick breaths of surprise. Grell's eyes widened comically, and William's… well, Grell had no doubt that if looks could kill, William's glare would have him reduced to nothing more than a few burnt crisps of clothing on the floor.

Grell had no idea how he ended up against the wall. All he knew was that one moment they were glaring each other down in the corridor, and the next he was being slammed against the wall and a gloved hand had snaked its way around to the back of his neck. They were kissing, violently, tugging at one another's hair and clothing as their tongues fought for dominance. William slipped a knee between Grell's legs, pulling the redhead closer and smirking when Grell moaned –_loudly_- into his mouth. It was needy, desperate, and it suddenly struck them both just how much they'd _missed _this.

All too quickly William pulled back, running a hand through his hair to put it back into its neat style. Grell's lips felt swollen, but he made no notion to sort out his appearance as he grinned at a stunned William. The darker haired man was attempting to compose himself, and it only made Grell's grin wider.

"Ha. I knew it." The redhead's tone was triumphant, causing William's eyes to darken considerably as he glanced around the corridor. Whilst it _had _required such a drastic measure as outright goading him for him to stop treating Grell coldly, he did not approve of the place or time. Grell had the grace to look self-conscious and embarrassed when William walked two steps away and pushed open one of the doors.

"Inside." William's face was generally indifferent, but there was a small tilt of the corner of his lips as Grell flushed from head to toe. Most likely _everyone _in the room had heard his desperate moan. He walked into the room sheepishly and took his designated chair as William stayed at the door.

One of the heads of departments, the blonde female, was smirking at him with a twinkle in her eyes. It was his confirmation that they'd heard everything, and the woman looked positively amused by it. Grell had the feeling that she was attempting to hold back a snort of laughter.

"Grell Sutcliff." The Director's voice snapped him back to attention. "We have, after an hour of heavy discussion, come to the conclusion that you are guilty. We will now list the punishments that we find to be most justified for what you have done, and you shall choose which one you wish to carry out…"

* * *

><p>Ronald knew that they'd win.<p>

With William's influence and hard-as-nail arguments, it would have been simply ridiculous to try and fight whatever argument he would have put forth. And yes, whilst Grell was indeed charged as _guilty_, he was saved from exile and death.

Really, William's eyebrow could have gone in and raised itself, and it would have had every Shinigami in that room quaking in their shoes. Of that, Ronald is absolutely certain, because at the office-wide cheer when Grell walked back in _behind _William, the dark-haired man had raised that damnable eyebrow and everyone had quietened instantly.

Almost everyone was on shift today, whether they were required or not. Some waited for news of Grell's imminent death, some waited in hope for any words that the redhead was coming _back _without a body bag wrapped around him, and others simply didn't care and had come in to work.

Grell was sitting on the edge of his desk, holding his chainsaw sadly in front of him as William moved around the cubicle areas pulling forms from different desks. He gave no notice to a startled looking Alan, who was scanning through a long list of the recent dead. Ronald did, however, notice the brunette as he started to frantically rummage through his desk for the list of the recently acquired souls.

Ronald also noted, however briefly, that there seemed to be an air of awkwardness between his boss and Grell. He hadn't a shred of doubt that Grell had done something on the way to the hearing or on the way back, but William was acting as though absolutely nothing had happened. Clearly, oh so _clearly_, it was frustrating Grell to no end. The blond could see the redhead fidgeting with his saw and shuffling around on the desk every second or so.

Answering a jibe from Eric half-heartedly, Ronald sat on the edge of his chair and swivelled around to look over the entire office. Grell was now signing several forms as William ripped the chainsaw from the man's grip, and his green/yellow gaze kept flickering up to William as he wrote. Ronald smirked. Something had _definitely _happened. William looked as though he was caught between the decision of kissing the redhead and impaling him with the chainsaw, and was trying to keep an uninterested look on his face as Grell muttered under his breath. Ronald could see right through it, as could Grell, but no doubt it would work on the other Shinigami.

Ronald vaguely became aware of several Shinigami around him speeding up and moving quickly as Alan ran between them all with his sheets of parchment, but was too busy stifling a laugh to really notice. Grell had tried to launch himself towards William –likely to grab his precious chainsaw- but the man moved back quickly and the redhead simply fell to the floor with a loud 'oof' of pain.

The blond grinned, however, when the chainsaw completely disappeared, and Grell's face fell.

"You did not think I would secretly let you keep your chainsaw, did you? You can only have it back once you've finished your punishment, or there is an emergency. Now get behind your desk; you've six months of desk work to fulfil." William's voice was back to its usual cold tone whenever he spoke to Grell in the office, and Ronald smirked at the redhead as he harrumphed and walked round to his chair. Grell threw himself into it, scowling at everyone who bustled past. Ronald finally took the time to really _notice _his surroundings, and jumped slightly in his seat as he realised just how urgent everyone seemed to be. One young, fresh out of the academy Shinigami ran up to Alan and shook his head in a mild panic.

"Nothing there, Mister Humphries!" Alan seemed to deflate at this, and a resigned worry and terror took over his features as he made his way across the room towards William. The next words out of his mouth had Ronald wondering if, perhaps, Grell would be getting his chainsaw back much sooner than he thought.

"Sir, the souls that have been retrieved recently are not matching up with the high number of recently deceased!"


	7. Grief

**A/N**: Hey, here's the next chapter! I'm back from visiting my Grandfather; got off the plane three hours ago, arrived home an hour ago, and got straight on here to deliver the next chapter! Any mistakes are a result of me staring at my notepad and typing without looking at the keyboard.

This was incredibly depressing to write; I wrote it whilst over there into my notepad, and I'm copying it all out quickly and seeing if I can get this posted Monday evening! (Current British time.) First part and second part follow in succession, and the last two pieces kind of go along at the same time. However, knowing my luck, I'll post this, and Eric and Alan will appear in the manga and shoot this story to pieces!

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><p>He knows he is in the wrong, and yet he doesn't let this stop him. He'd gotten clumsy, frenzied. He had only a few souls left to collect, and in his haze to keep collecting, he'd become careless and had forgot to erase the record's existences. Eric decides that, promise or no, if he can kill this Phantomhive brat, he can run and collect the final few souls and the Thorns will be gone. It's a reckless thought, but Eric can happily face certain death with that knowledge.<p>

As he strikes, there is a moment of inexplicable _glee_. Eric can almost cackle! It takes half a second, but Eric knows he has to run and _go_, with disappointment, hate and death following his footsteps should he not go quick enough.

When the momentary flash of light that follows a humans Cinematic Record does not appear, Eric takes in the victim lodged on the end of his saw and feels his world fall apart like the shattering of a flawed diamond.

It's not the Phantomhive brat before him, it's Alan.

An agony unlike any he's ever felt before rips through Eric, and Alan only gets paler as his record flies out for all present to see. Eric can't watch it, can only stare in horror and pain as his entire world stands frozen in limbo before him.

Everything catches up to Eric, and another wave of agony crashes through into him as the pain intensifies. Half of the pain is his own, and the other half of it is emanating from Alan so fiercely that it would be impossible for Eric not to feel it. He's killed his protégé, his best friend, his lover, the other half of his _soul_.

The record ends, and before all the tension has even left Alan's body, Eric runs forward and catches the only person he has ever loved in his arms. Alan's knees buckle beneath him as Eric wraps one arm around his waist. His other arm pulls the brunette closer as they fall to the floor. The twinkling light in Alan's startlingly green and yellow eyes slowly fades, but those piercing eyes are still locked onto his own and a surge of grief wracks its way through his body. The barest hint of a smile touches Alan's lips before he goes completely limp, and those twinkling eyes go dark and lifeless.

All colour strips itself from Eric's world, and already tears spill down his cheeks. An agonised howl tears its way from his throat in the form of his brunette's name. He clutches frantically at the front of Alan's clothes, as if pulling him closer and sobbing into his chest will bring him back.

Alan _has _to come back; Eric's life will simply be too _painful _without him. He can't resign himself to the knowledge that there will be no Alan to curl into after work, no Alan to shine brightly beneath him despite an illness, and no Alan to hold tightly after an attack to whisper comforts to.

Alan isn't coming back, but Eric cannot live an immortal life without him. He feels guilty for killing the man, but also terrified at the idea of living without him; he'd become so accustomed to the idea that he would save Alan that he'd failed to consider what would happen if he didn't.

Looking up to the demon who is taunting him once more, Eric realises that if he cannot bring Alan back to him to atone, then the only way to dull the crippling agony is to join him.

* * *

><p>It's been a week.<p>

Ronald is one of the last to be able to control his tears enough to leave the office. In fact, he _would _be the last one, as Grell had stopped crying three days ago, but William had left this morning to investigate a circus disappearance and, with no one to distract the redhead, his tears had returned full swing.

Ronald feels more guilty than anything else. The last time he had seen a living Eric, he was swinging his scythe towards the other man only to be pushed roughly to the side. Eric could have easily killed him, but he had only hurt him to avoid him. Ronald had been reluctantly prepared to _kill_.

Ronald is broken from his staring into space –and it's not really space, as he's staring at the two empty desks next to the wall length window- by what he perceives as movement ahead of him. Grell stops sniffling a desk over, and it confirms to Ronald that he's not losing his mind.

He can _see _Eric and Alan at their desks, looking for all the world as if they'd never left. Eric is leaning against the side of his own desk, arms crossed and laughing down at Alan. Alan is seated at his desk with an impish smile on his face that makes his cheeks glow. There's something different about them, and if the sharp intake of breath from Grell is anything to go by, then the redhead has already noticed it. Ronald simply freezes when it finally registers with him.

Eric and Alan aren't wearing any glasses.

It discards the possibility that he and Grell are reliving a memory, as they'd not seen the glasses-less bodies of their friends. The bright green and yellow eyes of Eric and Alan shine without the obstruction of a lens, and as they grin at each other their cheeks simply _shine_.

That's when Ronald notices something else. Alan looks fantastically _healthy_. His skin no longer looks pale and sickly, his eyes look impossibly bright, and he's no longer as thin and frail as he was only a month ago. He's still slim, incredibly so, but he's sitting as gracefully as a swan without looking like he's _dying_.

Ronald holds back an ironic laugh at the thought.

They lock eyes with each other, and the bright smiles disappear from their faces. Eric gives Ronald a sorrowful grin, and Alan merely looks happily satisfied. Ronald rubs at his watering eyes, and the two disappear.

Ronald doesn't know what happens to a Shinigami when they die, but this time he doesn't try to control his silent tears.

* * *

><p>William now has another reason to hate the demon.<p>

The thought occurs to him as he leaves the circus for the manor. It had been three human months since the death of two of his workers, but a bit longer in the Shinigami world. Alan had been the Academy Graduate that William had handpicked from the few who had passed their exams, and he remembered clearly his own wariness at sending Eric to take in and mentor the young man. He'd never suspected that the loud and slightly arrogant Eric would get along with the quiet, reserved Alan like a house on fire. They'd mellowed each other out; Eric had given Alan the confidence boost he had needed when he started at the department, and Alan had given Eric a cause to stop and think about just _how _he viewed the brunette, and whether or not the young man could become a friend.

William hadn't been surprised when the two had turned their relationship from friendship to something more. He remembered giving them the expected lecture on how office relationships could only be entered if there was the full intention of considering it going long term. William remembered feeling the pang of pain at the time as he'd thought of his redhead that he hadn't seen for nearly half a century.

He hadn't replaced his workers, no. Their desks were still vacant, with their name plaques still sitting on the desk. They were understaffed, and that was why he was here doing a ridiculous collection and waiting for Ronald Knox.

Ronald and Grell hadn't taken the news well when he'd told them of Eric and Alan's deaths. He'd left them to comfort each other, and had banned them from seeing the bodies. William had guessed from the lack of glasses on the two, and the scythe marks, that they'd planned to run off and had been intercepted by the damned demon. A quick look at Eric's uncollected record had confirmed his theory of what had happened.

Had Eric and Alan actually managed to get away, William knew he wouldn't have sent a search team after them unless ordered to. And if he'd had to, it would have consisted of Ronald and Grell, who wouldn't have searched for the two very hard.

Grell… He hadn't really spoken to the redhead since before the hearing, when they'd shared that heated kiss. They'd spoken briefly when he had to take Grell's chainsaw from him, give it back, and then take it again after Eric and Alan's deaths. Other than that, however, he'd been too busy going back and forth between the Shinigami and Human world that they'd barely stopped to _think_. He wouldn't take Grell back, no. He _couldn't_ deal with the drama any longer. The redhead shouldn't have helped Jack the Ripper. He'd have to pay for it.

Perhaps, one day, Grell _could _be forgiven.

* * *

><p>Grell didn't know he'd been thinking. All he knew, really, was that William wasn't in the office, Ronald had gone with the man, and one too many Shinigami in the office had muttered something about Grell loud enough for him to hear. He hadn't <em>meant <em>to punch the man's teeth out. The Director had pitied him, and sent him home.

This country manor wasn't his home.

It had been, a year ago, but William had given him the new home after the Ripper incident, and he hadn't been back here since. But Grell had needed the quiet of the countryside, and a bed that smelt like something other than himself.

Pushing the door open using the spare key in the plant pot, Grell tugged his heels off and let his stocking-clad feet revel in the familiar feeling of the hallway rug. Usually, he would marvel at the size of the stone staircase and feel like a pampered queen, but the length of his time away from the manor and his own exhaustion took away the grandeur.

Grell walked the familiar hallway to the left of the stairs, towards William's study and the largest bedroom. He'd always loved William's study; everything was made from a dark oak wood, red curtains framed the medieval-like oval window, and all the books inside had been Grell's to read on the black settee as William worked at the desk. It was dark and refined, and much more like a small library than a study.

Grell cut across it swiftly, slinking through the hidden door to William's bedroom. Had Grell not been so tired, he'd have smiled at the total lack of chance in the décor. It was the same as Grell's decorating of it; the red rug, curtains, and single desk were still there on Grell's side of the room, as well as the darker, black version's that he'd placed on William's side.

The man probably hadn't changed it because he couldn't be bothered to, but it didn't matter. Grell crawled into the white sheets, curling up into a ball and simply laying there to think. He missed his two old friends; he occasionally found himself walking towards their home after a shift for a coffee only to remember that they were gone. They, along with Ronald, had been the only ones who spoke to him in the month between William collecting him from London and his hearing.

Grell froze his thoughts as his senses detected movement downstairs. Someone in the front doors, reached the staircase, and paused. Grell had also been detected on the upper floor. The person started to walk again, following the exact same path that Grell had taken through the house.

It was probably William, and he was likely following the scent of Grell's perfume just to see where Grell had gone before reaching the bedroom. Unlike Grell, William had trained and perfected his senses to the point that William had probably known it was Grell the second he walked in through the front door. Grell was still uncertain as to who it was until the person had entered the study, and the familiar aura of William registered with his senses. He seemed… curious.

Grell lay still in the bed, hearing a sigh as the door to the bedroom was opened further and William stood still in the doorway. For a moment, William emitted hardly any aura, and Grell thought the man would throw him out; Grell had only come because he thought William would not be back for a while, not because he'd thought for a second that he'd be welcome.

The redhead flinched at the sound of rustling fabric –William shrugging his suit jacket off, no doubt- before the drapes were pulled shut and the room was plunged into darkness. Grell felt his heart stop when the sheets were pulled back and, instead of kicking him out or dragging him by the hair, William awkwardly slipped in beside him. The darker haired man shifted only for a moment before Grell felt an arm looping around his waist and he was pulled to William's chest. William ticked some hair behind Grell's ear carefully before he stiffly rested his chin on Grell's shoulder. A feather-light kiss was placed onto his pulse point, and Grell felt his heart stutter into motion before stopping once more as the hold on him tightened.

Turning, Grell clutched the front of William's shirt in his fists and poured out the last of his grief.


	8. Campania

**A/N**: Aha… *incredibly sheepish* I'm guessing that, at this point, an apology really, really isn't enough? Heck, I'll be surprised if any of you readers can even _remember _the plot of this, much less where the hell this is picking up from. But I do have my excuses. Perhaps they're not good enough, but any college/sixth form student can understand how it feels when you miss a weeks worth of work, and then you're shoved into a revision schedule that barely leaves you enough time to _eat_, never mind write. However, the hard work _did _pay off since I did pass my first set of AS-Level exams, so yeah… Figured I'd get this out quickly before my revision schedule fires up again. You have Nathalaia to thank for kick-starting me into finishing off this chapter! Again, I'm really sorry!

This chapter will contain _slight _spoilers for the Campania arc, and ends at a point where you can just imagine the ending rather than me confirming it!

* * *

><p>Months passed, and things all but returned to the way they'd once been in the Shinigami offices. The absence of Eric and Alan was no longer a blaring hole in the operation of things, and William had been able to finally replace the two workers without feeling that the replacements would be automatically disliked. Indeed, the two young men, fresh from the academy, seemed to be generally liked by the workers in his department, and William was glad that he didn't need to keep his office blinds open in case the two were to 'disappear.'<p>

Not that his department was feeling particularly _murderous_, no. That word was one that was no longer said through silent agreement of all the workers. Murder brought up bad memories of both Grell's Jack the Ripper stunt and Eric's attempt to help Alan.

William would try constantly to be rid of the knowledge that, although he might not have known it, Eric was not far from his thousand souls. His earlier musings, on how he would have let Eric flee if it had come down to it, were corrected at the thought that either way he'd have lost two of his workers anyway. Alan would have followed Eric to the edges of the earth without a second glance behind him, and had Eric died in the process, Alan would have stopped all attempts to fight the thorns.

Oxford shoes clacking down the corridor distracted him from his thoughts, and William glanced to the door to his office with a sigh. Ronald was determined to get another job that allowed him to leave the office, and William was all too happy to give one to him. He had an interesting one looming on the horizon, one that required someone able to hide amongst the stiff British crowds without attracting _too _much attention.

He couldn't very well send _Grell_; after all, the redhead would have attracted far too much attention with his attitude, never mind his wild hair and feminine frame. The door was pushed open eagerly, dragging William from his musings.

"Hey, Boss! What you got for me?" Ronald allowed the door to click shut behind him, and all but strolled into the office before halting at the desk. William didn't bother instructing him to sit down out of the knowledge that Ronald wouldn't be able to sit still.

"I've a job for you, one you'll like." As he spoke, William opened a drawer from his desk and pulled out a thick ledger. Ronald eyed it with keenness, but waited for William to continue. "I've had this job ready for a while, but now I've no choice but to give it to someone." Alongside the ledger, which he pushed forward towards Ronald, William placed a single ticket next to it and watched as Ronald cocked his head to the side.

"That's a pretty big ledger, Boss. What does that- oh, the Campania. She's due to sink?"

"Not that I'm aware of, Knox. Take a look at the ledger. Tell me if you recognise any of the names." William watched as Ronald curiously pulled the ledger off the desk, testing the weight of it before flicking the pages open.

"Why would so many names be in this if the boat isn't due to sink- _oh. _What is _this_?" Ronald looked up at William in confusion as he pointed at several names in the book. A vast majority of them had side notes beneath them, with a few of them labelled 'Reaped by R. Knox.'

"That is why I need you there. You will find that a lot of those souls due to be reaped have been reaped previously by either myself, Sutcliff, you, and even as far back as Eric and Alan. All were killed in the London area, and yet they've reappeared on the ledger. I want you to go in there and find out what's going on." William pulled a hat from the drawer next, throwing it lightly into Ronald's lap.

"And take this with you until you're on the ship, _try _to hide your hair from the public." Ronald tried the hat on, pulling a face at William when it slipped down and partially obscured his vision. Taking the ledger in hand along with the train ticket, he moved to turn around but paused momentarily to look at his superior.

"Er, Boss? Am I going in alone? To reap _all _of these?" At this, William looked up from where he had started to sign some documents and frowned at Ronald.

"I'll send Sutcliff in after the ship has left the docks. Whether he arrives on time is something you shouldn't count on. I myself will turn up if there are any problems, but I doubt you'll encounter any."

"Ah, okay Boss. We'll find out what's going on!" With a bright smile that would have dazzled any female to look at it, Ronald tucked the hat under his arm and gave an eager nod to William before he left the office.

He couldn't _wait _for the job to begin!

* * *

><p>Grell was <em>bored<em>.

He had been summoned to William's office with no explanation as to why, told to quietly sit down in the chair opposite the desk, and then was promptly ignored for the next fifteen minutes. William had left the room mere moments ago, and Grell heaved a heavy sigh when the door was opened once more and his silence was disturbed again.

"Sutcliff, you could at least _attempt _to sit up properly." Grell rolled his eyes at the words, knowing without a doubt that William would see it as he walked around the chair to get to his desk. The man in question refrained from commenting on it, but instead watched Grell as the redhead grew more agitated. After a minute or two of silence, Grell squirmed in his seat and looked up, locking eyes with his superior.

"Why do you keep calling me 'Sutcliff'?"

"It's your name." Grell scoffed at the answer.

"I don't know where I stand with you, any more, Will! One moment you drop the ice-man persona and you're _my _Will, and the next you act like you don't know me, like I'm some sort of stranger!" Grell's voice rose in pitch as he spoke, prompting a raised eyebrow from William and a closing of the office blinds.

"Lower your voice, Grell. Perhaps you _wouldn't _be as confused as to where you stand had you not gone off on a murder spree. Perhaps you'd know where you stand if you hadn't _then _gone on to act the way you did with Michaelis-"

"-That was a _game_, a bit of _fun_-"

"-to _you _it was a game. To the Shinigami it was breach of morals; you wonder why they label you promiscuous when you act the way you do." William's voice held no emotion to it, and without even a quiver of _something_, Grell was left simply staring open-mouthed at him for several moments before he found the courage to speak.

"And yet you didn't kick me out when you found me in your- no, _our_- bed. Why was that?"

"I couldn't send you away in the state you were in." Grell found comfort in the knowledge that William, no matter how cold his voice seemed, was clearly holding something back. He needed to crack the man and keep him from retreating back to his cold persona again. That was what had happened after he had kissed him before the hearing, he'd retreated and Grell hadn't been around enough to realise it.

"Why couldn't you? If you hated me, if you _loathed _me as much as you claim you do, you could have left me on the streets and not given a damn! I know you, Will, I know you're holding yourself back! I want to know _why _you won't let me back in!" In the course of his speaking Grell had risen from the chair and had balled his hands into fists, the anger seeping out through his aura and all too detectable to William. For a single moment, one hopeful moment, William dropped his emotionless aura and allowed Grell to detect every emotion running through the man before the walls were back up and William's gaze hardened. Grell stared open mouthed at him, tears almost forming in the corner of his eyes at the surge of pain he'd detected.

"You left me. _That _is why I won't let you back in, Sutcliff." William's voice did not waver, but hit Grell hard enough to make the redhead fall back into the chair. There were a few moments of tense silence, where William simply looked bored and annoyed and Grell struggled to get words to form on his tongue.

"I'm sorry. But I want you _back_, and with me, not fighting against me. Damnit, Will, how many times do I need to apologise!" Grell sat back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest tightly, frowning up at William in exasperation.

"Quiet. I called you here for an assign-"

"Stop ignoring my question-"

"-ment and you _will _carry this job out properly-"

"-Stop ignoring me and _tell _me how I can-"

"-Enough! We will discuss this matter when you get back. Take this folder, read it over _at your desk _and then collect your scythe and depart immediately to join Ronald onboard the Campania. Now, _get out of my office_." With his last few words stressed slowly with only an angry tone to them, William motioned for Grell to leave quickly. Grell scarpered out of the office, half excited to get his scythe back and half determined to do the job properly in order to get William in a good mood for his return.

After all, he _would not _allow things to continue the way they were going. He would get his superior back one way or another, even if it took him years to regain the fragile trust that they had once had.


End file.
